da | (no subject)

This morning in Quaker Meeting, two people spoke about grief and grieving. In the silence, my mind was transported back five or so years, to a particular Meeting for Worship, held by Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns. Someone who was beloved by that community, and who has since died of cancer, sang out of the silence, Morning Has Broken.

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the Word

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where her feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I think this is the first song I ever learned, and almost the only good memory of my childhood.

Wow.

I wish I knew the words by heart; I would've even tried singing it. As it was, I had a sense of the words, and all of the melody, so I didn't, and thought of Susan.

That sounds right.

Thinking of you, and of the day that the three of us shared.

And of you, as well...

Likewise, off and on over the last week. And hoping you're doing OK.